


Out of Ashes

by dracusfyre



Series: We Fight Together [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, References to Depression, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, recovery fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: For theImagineTonyandBuckypromptHi!! Thanks opening prompts; I was wondering if anyone is interested in writing a Post TWS fic where the WS is on the loose and kidnaps Tony to be his new handler since he's good with maintenance for his arm and giving out orders and falls for him bringing sparks of Bucky back. While Tony already knows (through Jarvis searches) that WS was responsible for his parents deaths and while he is angry he's trying to survive and wants to help Bucky. Both see how damaged the other is. Xo, Katie.  I incorporated the prompt into a sequel to my other story,One More Light, so you should probably read that first for some context.Bucky and Tony reunite, but it isn't anything like either of them imagined.





	1. Falling

            “It’s probably just a coincidence,” Tony said out loud, back in his lab and spinning around in circles in his office chair.  In his pocket he was turning the dog tag over and over in his fingers, trying to resist temptation.

            “What is, sir?”

            “Nothing, JARVIS.”  Tony put the tag in the top drawer of his desk and closed it firmly.  He wasn’t going to look up _Barnes, James Buchanan._   Because it was just a coincidence.

            “I mean, lots of people probably have that name.”

            “What name, sir?”

            “Never mind, JARVIS.”

            Tony lasted thirty minutes before he opened the drawer again.

            It took him ten to determine that there has not been another James Buchanan Barnes in the US military since _the_ James Buchanan Barnes; there was a James Brantley Barnes twenty years ago, but that’s all.  There was a James Buchanan Barnes out of Little Rock (sandy-haired and twenty years old) and one out of Fort Wayne, Indiana (fifty years old if he’s a day).   The man he’d seen was the spitting image of Bucky Barnes, if ol’ JBB had gone on a week-long bender after growing his hair out.  But no way the man he’d seen was over ninety years old.

            Tony rubbed his hands over his face and stared at the picture on the screen, the hat tipped at a jaunty angle, the confident smirk and the dark, guarded eyes.  He ran his thumb over the raised letters of the dog tag for a moment before he closed the windows on his computer and tucked the tag into his pocket.

            “Alright JARVIS, open up the files on the palladium, we’re going back to the drawing board.”

 

            The next day, and then the day after that, and the one after that, until it became a daily habit, Bucky checked the newspaper - first the headlines, then the obituaries, just in case.  He knew it was kind of silly, because there was no reason for him to believe that if Tony did decide to go through with it, his death would even make the news, but he did it anyway.  Gradually it evolved into also doing the crossword puzzle, then the crossword and the Sudoku, until he realized that he had made himself a whole morning routine, complete with a coffee shop where they knew his order as soon as he came in. 

            The first time he realized he had become predictable he panicked and hid out for days, calling out of work and jumping at shadows.  He spent one whole day wedged into a corner under the Brooklyn Bridge with a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other before he finally calmed down enough to crawl out of his hiding spot in order to find food.  Eating made him sleepy, and as soon as he got to a safe place he crashed for twelve solid hours.  When he woke up his body felt shaky, fragile, but his mind was clear.  And when he finally slunk into his coffee shop, still feeling vaguely embarrassed by his overreaction, the barista greeted him with a huge smile.

            “I saved you the paper,” she said.  “Your coffee will be right up.”

            Bucky smiled shyly and thanked her, taking his usual seat near the rear exit with his back to the wall.  He sipped his coffee and did both puzzles before he started flipping through the paper itself.

            Then his brain stuttered when he saw the headline. _STARK EXPO ATTACKED_ , it said in big letters, and underneath _Iron Man and War Machine Defeat Rogue Robots._ The main picture on the page was of the Stark Expo convention grounds mostly destroyed and still aflame, but above the fold there was a small picture of a man with a cocky grin and a distinctive beard, looking out at the camera over a pair of colored sunglasses.

            “Tony… _Stark?_ ” Bucky read incredulously, hand drifting to the watch on his wrist.  Jesus.  No wonder Tony hadn’t believed that Bucky didn’t recognize him. But in Bucky’s defense, he _had_ pretty much been living under a rock for the past few years. He devoured the article, which took up the front page and half of one farther into the paper, not counting all of the related articles, one of which was about some guy named Justin Hammer and another about Colonel James Rhodes. “Rhodey,” Bucky said under his breath, folding the paper up neatly and draining his coffee.  Nothing in the paper talked about Tony’s mysterious not-cancer, but defeating a small army of robots almost single-handedly didn’t sound like the actions of a man on the edge of death so maybe he figured out whatever he’d been looking for. 

            Bucky let out a long exhale and relaxed back into his chair, feeling like a weight had come off his shoulders. Tony was ok.  He’d obviously made up with Rhodey and he was going to be fine. “Good for you,” he murmured as he grabbed his bag and tossed it over his shoulder.  He waved goodbye to the barista, feeling a real smile curl his lips for the first time in days, and when he went back outside he tilted his head up and inhaled deeply, feeling the crisp spring air filling his lungs.  He took a moment outside the coffee shop to close his eyes and feel the sun on his face, because goddamn he’d forgotten what happiness could feel like.

            He didn’t realize someone had come up behind him until a voice whispered “ _Sputnik_ ” in his ear. Bucky sagged to the ground, suddenly trapped in a body no longer under his control. 

***

 _Two Years Later_     

            “Who in the hell could do something like this?” Tony said, staring at the photos of the crime scene that was Steve’s apartment.  He studied the bullet holes in the brick wall, each the size of a quarter, and then pulled out the map with the shooter’s location marked on it. “I mean, that shot was just…unbelievable.” When he glanced up Rhodey was glaring at him repressively and Natasha was rolling her eyes. “What?” Tony said defensively.  “I used to sell sniper rifles, I know what it would take to make a shot like this!”

            “All I know about him is that he was fast,” Steve said absently, staring down at the wooden table that dominated the SHIELD conference room. “Strong.  And he had a metal arm.”

            If Tony hadn’t already been looking at Natasha he would have missed the way her eyelids flickered when Steve said _metal arm_ , even as the rest of her face stayed impassive.  She was holding herself tightly in the way that people did when they were afraid they were going to fall apart.  “Alright,” Tony said slowly, still watching her closely.  “Metal arm.  That’s pretty distinctive, I’ll start digging.” Steve nodded, something else clearly on his mind as he stood.  “Natasha, a word?” Tony said, shuffling the photos and papers on Fury’s assassination back into the folder as the conference room emptied.  She raised an eyebrow but lingered, giving Interim Director Hill a brief squeeze on the arm as she walked by.

            “What is it, Tony?”

            “Not the first time you’d heard of a guy with a metal arm, Nat?  Because I gotta say, I stay pretty up to date with the latest technology, including prosthetics, and I’ve never heard of something like Steve’s describing.”

            Natasha exhaled and looked at the conference door, making sure it was closed firmly.  “Look, most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists,” she said, voice low. “And the ones that do, call him the Winter Soldier.  He’s assassinated over two dozen people in the last fifty years.”

            Tony raised his eyebrows. “So he’s a ghost story. Or like the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

            Natasha pressed her lips together. “Look, Tony. One time, I was extracting an engineer from Odessa.  The Winter Soldier shot out my tires, and then shot my engineer straight through me. So I know he's real. But going after him is a dead end. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

            “But I haven’t.”  Tony offered her a crooked grin, tapping the folder against the table.  “You dig on your end, I’ll dig on mine.”

            “You know Steve’s not going to sit still on this,” she warned.

            “Uh, you think? After his boss was killed in his own living room by a mysterious metal-armed stranger?” Tony opened the door to the conference room, gesturing for her to lead the way. “Were you planning to babysit?”

            “I was going to watch his six, yes.” Her heels clicked sharply on the tile floor as she pushed the button for the elevator. “And you? Are you going back to New York?”

            “No.” As the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Tony texted Happy to bring the car around.  “Something strange is going on at SHIELD and I’m going to find out what.  Let me know if you need backup, ok?”

            “Sure thing,” Natasha said with that small smile of hers that said either ‘I’m way ahead of you’ or ‘I’m going to agree and then do whatever I was going to do anyway,’ which more or less amounted to the same thing.

 

            “Son of a bitch,” Tony cursed as his call went to voicemail for the sixth time; neither Steve nor Natasha had been answering their phone for the past twenty minutes.  “JARVIS, where are Steve and Natasha right now?” He asked as he continued sprinting down the stairs to the garage, taking the steps two at a time.

            “Sir, there has been no trace of Ms. Romanov’s since her last update in New Jersey, but the tracker installed on Captain Rogers’ shield indicates that he is in the middle of the Potomac.” 

            That made Tony’s steps slow in confusion.  “What?  Did he decide to go for a swim?”

            “This may provide some clarity, sir.”  Tony glanced down at his phone at the footage JARVIS downloaded; it was a clip from a news channel showing three helicarriers emerging from the river next to SHIELD’s headquarters.

            “Son of a bitch,” Tony said again, and continued down the stairs.  Thirty minutes ago JARVIS had finally broken through SHIELD’s encryption.  Twenty-seven minutes ago Tony’s search query started turning up decades and decades of documents relating to the Winter Soldier project and the man with a metal arm, including security camera footage of a gravel road that Tony knew very well.  Twenty-two minutes ago Tony realized the implication of finding all of this information on SHIELD servers, and fifteen minutes ago he started getting a really bad feeling about not being able to reach Steve or Natasha.

            Tony was three floors away from the garage where his suit was stored in the trunk of his car when a shudder hit the building, making Tony miss the last two steps and hit the far wall of the landing heavily. “Sir, one of the helicarriers has hit the building,” JARVIS said.  “There is an emergency exit on the first floor, evacuation is highly recommended.”

            “No kidding,” Tony said under his breath.  “What about my suit?”  He held tightly to the railing as the building shuddered again; there were no windows in the stair well, and the concrete walls muffled any sound coming from outside.

            “Sir, it is mathematically impossible for you to reach the emergency suit before the building collapses. Evacuation is _highly recommended,_ ” JARVIS repeated with emphasis.

            As Tony hit the emergency exit door at the base of the stairs, he was greeted with chaos.  Two helicarriers were tilting drunkenly in the sky, cannons and rail guns still firing at each other with a noise like thunder.  The third cast a long shadow over the grounds of the Triskelion as it fell from the sky, taking the southeast corner of the building with it in a cloud of smoke and rubble.  Helicopters circled at a distance, and the air smelled of smoke and fuel as debris rained from the helicarrier battle.   “Holy shit,” Tony breathed. 

            “Sir, you are still not at a safe distance,” JARVIS said disapprovingly.  “Please continue to-”

            “Where’s Steve?” Tony said instead.  “You said he’s on one of those things, right?”

            “Captain Rogers’ position has not changed.  Sir, I cannot recommend that you-”

            “JARVIS, if Steve went up against that metal armed bastard he’s going to need back up.  I’m not leaving.” Tony swung a leg over the stone balustrade that lined the patio area he was currently on and dropped down to jog across the parking lot.  It wasn’t long before he was in the woods that lined the Potomac, trying to keep an eye on the helicarriers as he approached Steve’s last known position.

            “Any updates, JARVIS?” Tony asked, cursing under his breath as he tried to make his way through the underbrush.

            “Captain Rogers’ signal has moved a thousand meters south of your position,” JARVIS answered, making Tony groan. 

            “I don’t suppose there’s a trail or something-” Tony was yanked backwards as an arm wrapped around his throat, tight and implacable, cutting off his air. Tony’s hands came up to scrabble at the arm around his throat as the edges of his vision went dim. He spent the last of the air in his lungs trying to twist out of the grip but it was fruitless; he might as well have been fighting one of his own suits. He felt his hands drop limply to his sides as the dappled leaves of the forest went black.


	2. Fleeing

            The asset stooped and considered the man lying unconscious on the forest floor.  He was wearing an unreinforced suit, and a simple search revealed that he was carrying no weapons.  However, it was highly improbably that a civilian would be in this location at this time wearing these clothes, so whoever this man was, he had to have been involved in the disaster unfolding upriver.  Narrowing his eyes, he recognized that the man looked familiar, but a search of his memory revealed nothing more specific than a vague feeling of recognition. The ringing of his ears that had started when his target had said _“you know me_ ” grew louder.

            The asset came to a decision.  He slung the man over his shoulder and started walking.

            He wanted answers

_[_ _who the hell is bucky]_

            and this man was as good a place to start as any.

 

            As he anticipated, the closest Hydra safe house was deserted; given the events unfolding across the city, the rats would have fled the sinking ship hours ago.  He secured the man to a chair from the canteen as he raided the cache of supplies, distantly relieved to find a second set of goggles and a face mask in addition to the munitions and calorie dense protein bars. When he returned to the room with his captive he could hear that the man’s heart beat was picking up; he would be waking up soon.  He positioned himself so that he would be the first thing the man saw when he awoke and drew his pistol as the man stirred.

            There were a few moments of disorientation as he returned to consciousness, brown eyes blinking until they finally focused on the asset, momentarily drawn to the pistol in his hand before coming back up to his face.  “ _You_ ,” the man in front of him finally said, narrowing his eyes in fury. “What do _you_ want?”

            The asset considered him, still finding only the vaguest feelings of recognition.  He did not have the look of a guard or fellow soldier. Handler, perhaps? Former target?  “Information,” the asset answered.

            "What makes you think I'm going to tell you anything?" The asset watched as the man's muscles tensed, testing his bonds.  “You think I’m afraid of you?” The man sneered. The asset cocked his head, hearing the man's heart pounding with terror despite his defiance.   “You’re not even the scariest thing to happen to me this _week._ ” The man spat at the asset's feet, apparently unconcerned by the sleek black barrel pointed at him. “You might as well kill me because I know who you are.  You’re the asshole that killed my parents, and if you let me live I’ll make sure you pay for that.”

            The asset considered the words but they answered none of his questions so he filed them away for later.  Instead he pulled out the wallet that he’d found on the man’s body and started rifling through it.  “Tony Stark,” he read from the driver’s license. The name had the same vague sense of familiarity as the man’s face.  “What is your relationship to Captain America?” Stark only raised his chin in stubborn silence, so the asset shot the ground between his feet, the bullet throwing up sharp chips of concrete. “Is this really how you want to die?” he asked curiously. 

            He watched Stark consider his prospects before saying, “We work together.  It’s not exactly a state secret.”

            The assrt suppressed another frustrated growl at the useless answer.  “What is your relationship to Hydra?”

            “Hydra?” Stark repeated, making a face.  “ _Fuck_ Hydra. Right now, _you’re_ my only relationship to Hydra, asshole.”

            Interesting. So if Stark could be believed, he was not only not a member of Hydra but perhaps even its enemy. So despite his clearly personal animosity, they had a common adversary, which meant that perhaps he could still be useful even though he clearly didn’t have the answers the asset was looking for.  As he thought, the silence lengthened, the hum of the safe house’s air conditioning unit sounding incongruously loud, until the asset finally holstered his pistol, stood, and dragged Stark over towards the computer set up in the next room.

            “Can you unlock this?” The asset tapped the keyboard and the screen turned on, demanding a password.

            Stark stared at the screen and then up at the asset.  “Are you serious?”

            “You can’t.”  He straightened and put his hand on his pistol.  Stark was useless after all.

            “Of course I _can,_ but why would I-”  Stark stopped suddenly as the pistol reappeared in his field of vision. He scowled and nodded his head jerkily.  “I see. I help you find whatever information you’re looking for and you’re going to what, let me live?” He said sarcastically. "Next you're going to tell me you have a bridge to sell me."

            “Find me my information,” the asset said, “and I’ll not only let you go but let you try to kill me.” He set the pistol next to the keyboard and waited for Stark to decide.  For what it was worth; he _would_ let Stark have the pistol if he could give him the answers he was looking for.  It wouldn't make a difference - Stark would die either way, because after this, the asset planned to disappear - but if it meant securing his cooperation, Stark could have every weapon the asset was currently carrying.

            Stark exhaled loudly. “Deal," he said finally.  "Free my hands so we can get this show on the road.”

 

            Thirty minutes later, Tony groaned for the third time and rested his head against the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling while the Winter Soldier searched through the files on the computer.  “You know, this would go faster if you told me what you were looking for.”

            The Soldier ignored him, just as he had every other time Tony had spoken since he hacked into the computer. Tony heaved a long sigh and tested his bonds again but his wrists were getting raw from rubbing against the zipties holding him to the chair.  He looked around the room again but it hadn’t changed; the same straight from the showroom generic wood and leather furniture, unoffensive white walls, window looking out over a grassy field.  He’d already read the titles of all the books on the shelves and realized that this wasn’t a place someone actually lived, because the books were clearly chosen at random just to fill the shelves. And for it to be an office, it was entirely too…bare.  What kind of office didn’t have any pens or notepads or even convenient paperclips to try to escape with?  Clearly a front for something.

            Tony jerked in surprise at the sudden noise as the Soldier pushed away from the desk.  “It’s not here,” he growled.  He punched the computer monitor and threw it across the room, wedging it into the drywall.  He ripped the casing off the CPU and crushed the hard drive with his metal hand, letting the pieces fall to the floor. 

            “Ok,” Tony said. “Now what? Now I get to go, just like you promised?”

            “I said, _find me my information_ and you can go.  And it’s not here, so we’re leaving.”  The Soldier grabbed the back of the chair and dragged it out of the room.

 

            Tony shifted as much as he was able, moving his toes and fingers as he tried to get comfortable in the awkward position the Soldier had left him in.  After leaving the other place, the Soldier had thrown him, still tied to the chair, in the back of a battered forest green SUV.  He'd driven for what felt like at least four hours on windy-ass roads before there was the crunch of gravel under the tires and the car turned off.   Tony heard the click of slides being checked and then the car door opened and shut, leaving Tony staring at the torn fabric lining the vehicle’s interior. Before long there was gunfire, three round bursts, which slowly faded, presumably as the Soldier moved farther away.  Despite the pain in his wrists Tony kept trying to find some give in the hard plastic zipties holding him to the chair, but all too soon there was the sound of footsteps approaching the vehicle and then the Soldier yanked the back door open, his black mask and goggles as blank and menacing as ever.  He drew a knife and Tony had a second of pure terror before the Soldier was using it to cut the ties.  Tony was flexing his arms and wrists to get the circulation back when the Soldier pulled him out of the vehicle like a child, setting him on the ground and giving him a rough shove towards the anonymous concrete building in front of them.  The gravel lot was surrounded by trees, thick with leaves and almost choked to death by a tangle of unchecked kudzu, making a wall of green around them. A single glance told Tony that running was pointless, so for now, at least, he went where the Soldier was herding him.

            As he entered the building Tony gagged at the smell of gunfire and death.  There were two bodies here by the entrance, clearly the guards, and Tony could see the limp limbs of other bodies in the hallway beyond.  “Look for anything that could hold data,” the Soldier ordered, positioning himself between Tony and the exit as he started searching the bodies.

            Tony swallowed thickly and thought about refusing but the sheer number of dead bodies was a pretty strong argument against making the Soldier angry.  So he avoided the blood and other unidentified liquids as he searched pockets and anywhere that might hide a data stick, moving from body to body without looking at faces. 

            On the next floor down, Tony stilled as he stared at the watch on someone’s wrist.  The crystal was shattered, but BULGARI still marched around the face and the band was the same, slightly worn brown leather.  Tony unfastened the band and turned it over; sure enough, there was a date etched on the back, the date that Tony had been found in Afghanistan.  “Oh God, Bucky,” Tony said softly, sitting back on his heels.  There was no good explanation for why a Hydra agent would be wearing this watch.  What possible link could a homeless guy have with Hydra? Was it the few minutes that he’d spent with Tony? Or could Hydra somehow be linked to the James Buchanan Barnes of the 1940s?

            Tony ran his fingers over the face of the watch, frowning as his mind raced.  _I fought really hard, to get away from a bad place, from some bad people_ , he’d said.  Could those bad people have been Hydra?  “JARVIS-” he started without thinking, wincing when he heard the Soldier cross the room towards him with long strides.

            “What did you find?” the Soldier said, voice rough and harsh.

            “Nothing important,” Tony muttered, and started to put the watch in his pocket.

            “Show me,” he demanded anyway, and Tony showed him the watch with a sigh.

            “This used to be mine,” Tony explained as the Soldier stared at it silently. Tony wished he could tell what the man was thinking behind those dark mirrored goggles and black face mask. He was staring at the watch far longer than the broken thing deserved, but when Tony reached out to take it back the Soldier pulled it out of his reach with a growl.  Tony raised his hands and backed away as the watch disappeared.  “It’s not like it’s worth anything now,” he muttered at the Soldier’s back.

 

            The asset stalked away as he tried to figure out why the sight of a wristwatch made his heart race and head ache.

_[who the hell is bucky]_

            He rolled his shoulders and unclenched his jaw, trying to ease the throbbing in his temples.  The ringing in his ears was growing almost unendurable.  The nagging feeling that he was close to finding what he was looking for was all but dragging him deeper into the base, now that he had eliminated all of the agents inside.

            “Come on,” he ordered when he realized that Stark wasn’t behind him.   “The computers are this way.”

            “I’m coming, dear,” Stark called back in a sarcastic falsetto as he turned the corner.  “Hey, what’s in here?”  He stopped next to a half-open door, pushing it open carefully.  The asset scowled.  He’d already cleared that room, there was no reason for Stark to-

            When he saw what Stark was looking at, the ringing got so loud that he staggered. 

_[who the hell is bucky]_

            His vision tunneled in on the chair in the middle of the room, the machinery around it and the restraints that lined the arms and back. 

_[who the hell]_

_[bucky]_

_[Bucky]_

_[BUCKY-]_

            He braced himself against the wall, trying to push down the dizziness and sudden nausea, but as he felt himself falling towards the floor he realized that the ringing in his ears was the memory of his own screams.

 

            “What the-” Tony instinctively moved to help the Soldier when he sagged against the wall, holding a hand to his head, before wisdom prevailed and he moved out of arms reach.  The Soldier mumbled something that Tony didn’t catch and then he hit the floor.

            For a long moment, Tony hesitated. Should he run? Should he try to take one of the Soldier’s weapons? Or should he try to find the car keys, or his cell phone, or some other way of calling for help?  A failed escape could mean death, but if he didn’t take this chance another might not –

            “Shit,” Tony breathed, suddenly realizing that the Soldier was having a seizure. He was making choked noises and his limbs were jerking, combat boots hitting the wall with irregular thumps.  There was another agonizing moment of hesitation where Tony had a vivid mental image of literally being able to kick his parents’ murderer in the nuts before he knelt at the Soldier’s head.  He was probably wearing a cup anyway.  “Come on you bastard,” he said as nicely as he could as he started to pry off the goggles and mask off the Soldier’s face so he could breathe. “Don’t choke on your tongue and leave me here at a Hydra base in the middle of nowhere.  You’re going to be fine, you hear me?”  The goggles came off to show that the Soldier’s eyes had rolled back in his head, so Tony cursed and moved faster to remove the mask. The Soldier’s left hand was twitching, the metal gears buzzing and whirring and plates clicking as they rearranged themselves, which was the coolest goddamn thing Tony had ever seen and if it wasn’t attached to a _fucking Hydra assassin_ -

            “What the _hell?”_ Tony dropped the mask like it had burned him, falling over on his ass when he saw the Soldier’s face. “ _Bucky?”_


	3. Stumbling

            Tony felt hot, then cold, then hot again as he stared down that the man still seizing on the floor.  How could it possibly – _no,_ he thought, with a sharp shake of his head.  It couldn’t be the same guy.  He didn’t move the same, talk the same, he hadn’t known Tony _at all_.  It had to be a- a clone, maybe, Tony thought wildly. As he stared, mind racing, the Soldier suddenly went still.  For a few long moments he was unconscious, his labored breathing sounding loud and harsh in the room, until he stirred with a groan.  He opened his eyes, blinking in confusion, and tried to sit up.

            Tony scrambled to get out of reach and then his stomach dropped when he met the Soldier’s eyes for the first time.

            Holy shit, it _was_ Bucky.

            “Tony?” he said, confused. “What in the – ” His eyes fell on the chair in the middle of the room and he jerked backwards until he hit a wall. “Why am I- what's going on?” He said, voice rising as he started to panic. "Where-"

            “Hey, take a deep breath,” Tony said, shifting closer and holding his hands out as Bucky started to freak out.  “Eyes on me, ok?”  After a moment, Bucky nodded, eyes locked on Tony’s, resolutely refusing to look at the chair.  Tony shifted a little to block his view, which seemed to help him relax. “Do you remember your name?”

            “B-Bucky."

            “Ok, good. And me? You remember me?”

            Bucky nodded. “Yeah, you're Tony,” he said, sounding almost shy. "What happened?"

            "Ok, good, that's good.  You, um, had a bit of an episode  C'mon, let’s get out of here, I think we have a lot of talking to do.”

            Bucky nodded again and Tony helped him up and had him drape an arm over his shoulder, seeing that his limbs were still shaky from the seizure. “Oh, God,” Bucky croaked when he saw the bodies littering the hall.  “Are they all…?”

            “Yeah, they’re all dead,” Tony answered.  He tried to pull him forward, away from the scene, but Bucky didn’t move, staring down at a man in a white coat with a broken neck.  That was when he seemed to notice what he was wearing, the all-black tactical gear bristling with weapons.

            “Oh, God,” he said again. He sagged down to his knees, almost pulling Tony off his feet.  “Hydra found me,” he said dully. “What did they make me do, Tony? How many people did I kill this time?”

            Tony had no idea what to say to that, so he just tried to get Bucky up off the floor. “Come on, Bucky.  It's okay, just come with me.”  He pulled on Bucky until he stood again, stumbling behind him as if in a daze.  He was quiet for a long time as he followed Tony through the base to what looked like the break room, a dismal, plain white room with a formica table, mismatched chairs, busted-looking couch, and a 1970s-era refrigerator.  He helped Bucky down onto the couch and handed him an unopened bottle of water from the fridge.

            Bucky didn’t drink it, he just picked at the label on the bottle for a long time and refused to look at Tony.  “What happened?” he asked quietly. “Did you find me? Here?”

            And that’s when Tony’s heart broke a little, making an actual pain in his chest.  Bucky didn’t remember anything of the last few days, maybe more, and he thought Tony had come to rescue him. Tony looked down at his hands and swallowed with difficulty around the lump in his throat. “I’m afraid not, Bucky.  I’m sorry.”  Tony rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. “What’s the, um, the last thing you remember?”

            Bucky set the bottle to the side and sighed, burying his head in his hands. “I was reading about you in the newspaper,” he said, his voice muffled.  “You blew up a bunch of robots at the Stark Expo.  Someone came up behind me and said...” Bucky frowned. "Said something, and that's the last thing I remember."  _Jesus_ , Tony thought, and the pain in his chest sharpened. That had been over two years ago.  Two years Bucky had been with Hydra, and they had been doing God knows what to him.  “So if you didn’t find me here, what are you doing here? Did-” Bucky straightened and turned towards Tony, eyes wide. “Did Hydra get you? Did _I-”_

            “No! No,” Tony hurried to assure him. “Nothing like that. You…” he started to explain, and then realized that it was a lot like that.  “You brought me here to help you find some information,” he said carefully.  “Do you remember what you were trying to figure out?”

            Bucky barked out a humorless laugh and ran a hand over his face. “No. No fucking clue.”  There was a long silence and Bucky finally said, “Can we get out of here?”

            “Yeah, of course,” Tony said.  “Where do you want to go?”

            “I don’t know.  Just away.”

            “Ok. You have my phone, so as soon as I figure out where we are, I can think of a place for us to go.” At this point, Bucky didn’t even question why he had Tony’s phone, he just started patting the pockets in his pants until he unearthed Tony’s wallet, phone, and the phone’s battery and sim card, and handed them over.  When he pulled out Tony’s wallet the watch fell out, almost hitting the floor before Tony caught it. 

            “Oh,” Bucky said softly when he saw it. Tony put it in his hand and he ran a thumb over the cracked face before putting it back in his pocket.

            “I found it on a Hydra agent,” Tony explained.

            “I’m not surprised,” Bucky said with resignation, standing. “Just one more thing they took from me.”

 

            When they went outside, Tony turned on his GPS and realized they were in the mountains of West Virginia, on the fringes of a state park.  He tapped his phone against his palm as Bucky stripped off most of the weapons he was carrying and threw them in the back of the SUV.  “I’m going to make a call,” he said, and Bucky just nodded, face blank as he took off as much of his tac gear as he could without getting naked. Tony walked a few feet away and dialled Natasha.

            “Tony!" She answered without even saying hello, sounding harried.  "We’ve been trying to find you, are you ok? JARVIS had no idea where you were, I didn’t even think that could happen.”

            “I’m fine, Natasha, I promise,” Tony said, pacing back and forth on the gravel drive.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Bucky was still disarming himself; there was an impressively long line of weapons marching across the tailgate of the SUV.  “I’ve just been having an…adventure.”

            “Well could you have that adventure somewhere closer to DC? Steve’s in the hospital, the Winter Soldier is on the loose, and the government is having a meltdown over Project Insight.  We could really use a dose of Iron Man right now.”

            “Um…yeah. Nat, I’m following up a lead on Hydra right now, and I can’t just drop it.”

            “Is this about your parents?”  Apparently JARVIS had filled her in on Tony’s discoveries in his absence.

            “Yeah, kinda.”

            There was a pause and then: “Tony, don’t go after him by yourself,” she said sharply.  “You don’t even have a suit with you.”

            “Sure thing,” Tony said, smiling when he heard Natasha curse on her end.  He hung up because really, how often does anyone to get to have the last word with her, and then he took the sim card and battery back out of his phone before SHIELD got any bright ideas to track him.  As he walked back to the truck he saw Bucky leaning against it, staring at his feet.  “We gotta roll.  I give SHIELD about an hour before they are crawling all over this joint.”

            “I should stay here,” Bucky said quietly. "Wait for them."

            Tony paused while opening the door and came back around to where Bucky hadn’t moved. “That’s insane.  You should come with me and we will figure this out and SHIELD can go-”

            “Look, Tony, I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Hydra doesn’t thaw me out to stand around and look scary.  I’m missing knives, I have about half a clip in each of my firearms, and my arm is damaged.”  He raised his metal arm and sure enough, Tony could see that some of the plates were misaligned. 

            "You're right,” Tony said carefully. “Something major happened, and I promise I’ll tell you, ok?  But not here and now.  Let’s get somewhere safe.”

            He breathed a silent sigh of relief when Bucky eventually nodded and climbed in the truck.  Once they were past the gravel road and the wheels were humming on asphalt, Tony said, “I’ll drive for a while, you get some rest.”

            To his surprise, Bucky agreed, leaning the seat back and closing his eyes.  Tony didn’t know if he was really asleep, but his breathing quickly became deep and regular and his features relaxed from the pinched, tight expression he’d had since he woke up from his seizure.  

            As the miles passed, Tony's thoughts began to circle more and more around Bucky.  Tony wished desperately to be able to talk to JARVIS, to Natasha or Pepper, _someone_.  They had clearly missed something huge in the files on Winter Soldier, because there was clearly some Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde shit going on with the man in the seat beside him.  Bucky didn’t seem able to commit the kind of violence Tony had seen on the security camera footage, but…he had.  There had been no sound to the video but he could clearly imagine the crunch of bone as Bucky’s metal arm had hit his father’s face and – and – 

            Tony had to force himself to stop thinking about because he could feel it making his blood pressure rise, but the anger was still there, burning in his chest like acid.  He ran a shaking hand across his face, opened the window, and tried to focus on driving.


	4. Standing

            Tony managed to drive for about eight hours, downing energy drinks every time they stopped for gas, until he got the the point where he realized that he was a danger to other drivers.  He pulled off on the first exit that had a number of hotel chains, fast food joints, and gas stations - the type of commercial tumor that grew along major highways and kept small rural towns barely on the brink of existence.  Whether through exhaustion or design, Bucky hadn’t stirred since the Hydra base; he would crack an eyelid when Tony stopped for gas, but then he would see Tony and relax back into sleep.

            “Hey, Bucky,” Tony said softly as he turned off the car, considering and discarding the idea of shaking him awake. “I gotta eat something, and you should too.”

            Bucky’s eyes flew open then he exhaled and nodded, sitting up and bringing the seat back with him. “Where are we?”

            “I don’t know.  A Waffle House off the interstate somewhere.”

            They were quiet for a long time as they sat down at a booth in the back of the restaurant; Tony was too tired to talk and Bucky apparently uninterested.  The waitress was a worn sort of cheerful, the way people get at the end of a long shift, but the coffee was fresh and hot and the idea of eating something that didn't come out of a plastic bag sounded wonderful.

            “So," Bucky said after Tony was finished with his first cup of coffee and halfway through his second.  "You gonna tell me what happened or should I just keep worrying about it for a while longer?”  

            “I’m sorry, Bucky,” Tony said.  “I didn’t…” He cut off his useless apology and looked down into his coffee cup, trying to find words to explain what happened in DC. “Um.  So I don’t know all the details, because Steve was the one mostly in the middle of it, but…you shot the director of SHIELD, and tried to kill Steve and some others…then Hydra tried to launch these giant hovercarriers to take over the world and you and Steve fought again.  The carriers ended up in the Potomac, so I guess Steve won.”

            “And Steve?” Bucky said quietly.

            “He’s in the hospital, so I’m sure he’ll be ok.”  Bucky nodded, resting his head tiredly against the back of the booth. “Do you remember things that, um, happen when you’re…you know…” Tony gestured like he was holding a rifle.

            “It's like trying to remember a dream,” Bucky said after a while.  The napkin was shredded by his nervous hands, white bits piled in front of him like snow. “Like there will be something random that brings a memory back, you know? But there are these big gaps...” He rubbed his eyes and sighed.  "It's like being blackout drunk for years, doing stuff you'll never remember but always regret."

            “Oh.” Tony knew he should say something about his parents; the words were on his tongue, swelling in his throat, pressing against his teeth, but Bucky already looked so defeated. Staggered, still standing only by force of will. Tony didn’t want to be the one to deliver the final blow. 

            “What?” Tony glanced up to see Bucky’s eyes on him, entirely too perceptive. “What aren’t you telling me?” When Tony hesitated, Bucky sat up straighter, an awful look of fear and dread on his face. “What did I –” When one of the waitresses glanced over at them Bucky forced himself to lower his voice. “What did I do?”

            “It was a long time ago,” Tony tried.  “It’s not-”

            “Tell me,” Bucky gritted out.  His hands were balled up into fists on the table.  “Goddammit.  Tell me, Tony. I can’t not know.”

            Tony took a deep breath and made himself look Bucky in the eye. “In 1991, you killed my parents.”  Bucky inhaled sharply, hands tightening into fists on the table. “You shot out a tire and their car hit a tree," Tony continued, making a strong effort to keep his voice steady. "My father got out of the car and…was killed, then…my mom.”

            “Your father…Howard Stark.  Jesus Christ.” Bucky slid out of the booth and all but ran for the closest exit.

            “Bucky!” Tony stopped long enough to reassure the waitress they were coming back and then he hit the door too, eventually finding Bucky by the dumpsters, leaning against the wall with his head down, spitting bile because there was nothing in his stomach to throw up.  The smell of the dumpster was eye watering; the sound of the highway a dull roar in the air, even in the early hours of the morning. “Are you ok?”

            “He recognized me,” Bucky said hoarsely. He slid down the wall, heedless of the litter on the ground, and stared down at his hands. “I remember. He looked at me and said, ‘Sergeant Barnes?’ before I killed him.”

            Tony inhaled sharply.  There had been a moment in the security video, a pause, right before…He walked away, pacing while he raked his fingers through his hair. He made a strangled noise in his chest, trying not to cry or scream, and punched the side of the dumpster. “Okay,” he said, once he was able. He couldn’t look at Bucky right now, but he did come and stand next to him, staring out at the scattered cars in the parking lot. “Okay,” he said again. “Right now, we’re going to eat.  Then I’m going to sleep while you drive, and we will figure everything out when we get to my house.”

            “What’s the point, Tony?” Bucky’s voice was tired and bitter, resting his head on his drawn up knees.  “Why keep running? I’m tired of running and hiding.  I hid from Hydra for years and they still found me and dragged me back.  Maybe if they put me in prison I can finally stop looking over my shoulder.”

            “So you’re just going to give up?” Tony said, voice rising. “Just let them, what, prosecute you for – for –“

            “For killing people? For fighting for Hydra?” Bucky stood up to face Tony. “Yes! Because I did!”

            “But it wasn’t you!” Tony shouted.

            “Wasn’t it?” Bucky yelled back, stepping forward until he was nose to nose with Tony. “You don’t think if I dig deep enough in this fucking arm they gave me that I’ll find blood? Decades of it? _I don’t want to carry that anymore_. I’m done.  Let them do whatever they want, I’m tired of trying.”

            “Yeah? You think you’re the only one who's tired?” Tony shoved at Bucky’s chest, managing to push him back a step. “What happened to the guy in the next foxhole, huh? You gonna tell me to keep fighting and then you get to give up? No!” Tony shoved him again, and this time Bucky didn’t budge, eyes hard. “We’re going to _eat some fucking food_ and I’m going to _get some fucking sleep_ and then we are going to _figure this out._ No self-sacrifices, no giving up, and no more _fucking self-pity._ Got it?” Tony stabbed his finger into Bucky’s chest and turned on his heel to go back into the restaurant.

            “What do you care? I killed your family!” Bucky yelled at his back.

            “No!” Tony turned around and slashed the air with his hand. “No. The Winter Soldier killed my family. Hydra killed my family. _You,_ James Buchanan Barnes, saved my life. So I’m not going to let you just give up and let the government lock you away for something that’s not your fault.”

            “I _am_ the Winter Soldier!” Bucky said in frustration.  He raised his hands like he wanted to shake Tony but he turned away and punched the brick wall of the diner instead, his fist making a dent in it. He let his head fall and sighed. “Don’t you get it? What Hydra made me is _always here,_ ” he said, gesturing towards his temple.  “Just under the surface, ready to – to take over and do whatever they want.”

            “But maybe we can fix that.” Tony touched him lightly on the back, then a little more surely when Bucky didn't move away. “I know you can’t do it alone, so I’m asking you to let me help you.”

            “I don’t deserve your help.” 

            “That’s not up to you,” Tony said softly.  He put his hands on Bucky's shoulders and squeezed, feeling the hard, unforgiving metal of his left arm.  “I happen to think you do.  So just…come with me.  Let me fight for you until you can fight again.”

            "Why?" Bucky shrugged off Tony's hands like they burned. "You should hate me."

            Tony opened his mouth but no words came out.  In his mind he heard _T_ _hose are_ your _weapons in the hands of those murderers! Is this what you wish the legacy of the great Tony Stark to be?_  And felt Yinsen's eyes on him. "You're right, I probably should.  But I don't. I'm angry, yeah. So angry I can hardly-" Tony stopped and pressed his lips together tightly.  Yeah, still too fresh.  "But I'm not angry at you, ok?"  When Bucky was still silent, he said, "Come on.  I know the fight seems impossible right now, but we just take it one day at a time.  Just trust me."

            “Ok,”  Bucky said quietly. He rubbed his eyes and swiped a hand over his cheeks. “You win.”

            “Good. I mean, thank you.” Tony held his arms out and Bucky stepped into them, sagging against him with a damp sigh.  Tony held him tight, fisting his hands in Bucky's shirt as Bucky's arms hesitantly came up to wrap around his waist.  “You’re not alone anymore, Bucky. We’re going to fix this together,” Tony promised. 


End file.
